Lila
Hampton, Virginia
As the meeting stretches on, I find myself less and less able to shake the nagging feeling that something’s wrong.
My chest tightens, that gnawing ache refusing to ease.
I’ve been holding my breath without realizing it.
I grip my pencil tighter, my knuckles white as I stare down at my blank notebook.
The words blur, smudging together until they don’t make sense.
Three words, so simple, but they crack something inside me.
I swallow hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat.
Every time I close my eyes for even a second, I see Logan’s face.
I know what he’s doing right now. But it’s not like any other job.
He’s thousands of feet in the air, in a machine built to conquer the sky and defend lives, and yet it feels so fragile. One wrong move, one second too slow…
One mistake could get someone killed.
“Yeah,” I say, tucking a curled strand of hair back into my loose side braid. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Clark’s posture straightens and he swivels his chair in my direction. “You sure? You’ve been quiet. And no offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
I let out a shaky laugh, the sound unraveling in my chest. “Thanks, Clark. Super flattering.”
Asher narrows his dark eyes at his friend.
Porter frowns, his playful expression fading. “Is it James?”
I try to answer, but words fail me. Instead, I nod, my fingers trembling where they clutch the pencil.
Owen exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “When was the last time you heard from him?”
I clear my throat, voice barely above a whisper. “A week ago.”
The room falls silent. The easy banter is gone, replaced with a heavy understanding that settles over all of us.
I’ve lived this life long enough to know better than to dwell on worst-case scenarios.
I’ve seen the strength it takes to wear a uniform and the sacrifices that come with it. But still. A week is a long time.
Asher shifts in his chair, running a hand through his dark brown hair, his gaze steady and calm. “I know it’s hard. The waiting. The not knowing.”
Clark nods. “Viking’s one of the best pilots I’ve ever seen. He knows what he’s doing.”
Asher straightens. “He’s right, Lila. You know that.”
“I do,” I say, my voice splintering. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying. Every time he goes, it feels like I lose a part of myself. And this time...” I trail off, shaking my head. I rub my chest, trying to soothe the ache in my heart. “This time feels different.”
They exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
Then Porter leans in, studying me with warm hazel eyes.
“We don’t know the details of Alpha’s mission.
But if James hasn’t contacted you, it’s not because he doesn’t want to.
It’s because he can’t. That being said. The fact that we haven’t heard anything either means he’s fine. Just busy.”
Owen nods, his dark blond hair falling into his green eyes. I’m surprised he hasn’t had to cut it yet. “When we’re out there, when things get rough, we hold on to the people we love. Even if we can’t talk to them, they’re still with us. And James? That man breathes for you.”
My eyes burn, and I blink rapidly to keep from crying.
The distance between us feels impossible right now.
Not just the miles but the chasm of silence.
He left so abruptly, again. Not that he had a choice, but we barely got any notice.
Just a rushed I love you and a promise that he’d be safe.
I know he meant it, but promises feel fragile too.
Porter’s voice softens. “And he has someone to come home to.”
I look up, my vision blurry. “That doesn’t make him invincible.”
Asher’s jaw tightens, his voice low but steady. “No, it doesn’t. But he’s not out there being reckless. He carries the people he loves with him every time he straps into that jet. I’ve flown with him. He fights like someone who knows what he has to lose.”
Tears finally spill over and I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, breathing through the ache.
Clark leans closer, voice gentle. “We all respect the hell out of Logan. Not just because he’s a phenomenal pilot, but because he’s the kind of guy who would walk through fire for the people he cares about. That includes you.”
My voice cracks. “I just hate not knowing.”
Owen offers a small, understanding smile. “I sometimes think we have it easier. Missions keep us busy when we’re gone. There’s less time to wait and think.”
The room goes silent again and I glance around at the men sitting with me. They understand this life in a way few people do, so I let their words, their belief in him, wrap around me like a shield.